Wilson vs Kurt
by jiiterbug
Summary: In which Blaine and Kurt get a puppy and Kurt is jealous.


It all started with Wilson. Blonde Wilson, with the big brown eyes. Adorable, cute, perfect Wilson. Wilson, who was trying to steal Blaine away from him and would go as far as trying to choke him to death to get what he wanted. Kurt liked to think of himself as a reasonable person, a man with trust and respect, and honesty. But Wilson just came into their lives and threw all that out the window, because Kurt was so jealous of Wilson and his way around with Blaine, he knew he shouldn't be allowed anywhere near sharp, pointy things. Because Wilson was slowly but surely seeping into his skin, contaminating his certified state of sanity and his relationship with his husband. He hated Wilson, he decided.

And before you suggest the obvious: Talk to Blaine. Tell him how you feel, you should know that there were really no words that could describe Kurt and Wilson's situation, or at least in a way that didn't make him sound like a madman.

Because, Wilson is a puppy.

A little, fat, blonde fur-ball of a puppy, whose brown eyes were as big as galaxies and whose tail could knock over a dinosaur in its state of constant waggle. They'd picked him up from a shelter on their way back to their apartment in New York, after two weeks spent in Lima with their families. Blaine of course, had run to him the moment he laid eyes on it, scratching the back of his ears and yelling at Kurt to come see. Kurt smiled fondly, mumbled something about not needing yet another puppy in his life, but had walked over to talk to the lady in charge nevertheless. Not ten minutes later, they were back in their car, a puppy cradled in Blaine's arms and the goofiest smile Kurt had ever since plastered onto Blaine's face. The rest of the 5 hours were spent singing along to the radio and pointing out the seemingly endless sources of cuteness Wilson, as they had already decided to call him, held.

When they got home, they spent what seemed like hours discussing whether or not he should be allowed to sleep on their bed. Blaine argued yes, Kurt, and would very nearly cover his ears and sing whenever Kurt tried to contradict him. In the end, Kurt relented with a huff, and curled up under the blankets as far from Blaine and his new best friend as he could. Blaine, of course, would not stand such nonsense, and pulled him into a tight embrace the moment he turned off the lights, Wilson's weight and the soft rise and fall of his breathing steady against their legs. When Kurt woke up, it was with half-hearted conviction that he complained about dog hair, and allergies, and whatnot as he pulled Blaine in tighter to his chest.

Now, they had talked about it beforehand, discussed whether or not it was a good idea. Blaine had always wanted a puppy, for as long as he could remember, and Kurt thought it could be nice. So, as the days passed, the newest member to their family, as Blaine secretly called him, became part of their routine. Kurt, the early-riser in the relationship, would walk him around the park across the street and feed him his favorite food. (Yes, Blaine had tried nearly every brand in the market until he was positive Wilson preferred a certain type.) Then, he would head over to his studio, where he spent the days sewing and designing jackets and coats, picking out fabrics and studying the latest trends. Blaine would stay at home, assuring Kurt he was working on his latest composition more than he was spoiling their puppy.

At first, Kurt found it adorable. He would watch as Blaine tried to train Wilson, watch as his eyes lightened up whenever he succeeded and watch his smile grow warmer as the cookie he'd fed the restless puppy was devoured. He'd smile to himself, and walk over to kiss him just a little harder than was usual.

But then, things started getting out of hand. Wilson's personal training lessons persisted, but so far, all Wilson had learned was to sit. When Blaine finally realized training Wilson was like trying to get his hair to sit with no gel, only then did he settle for, instead, taking the puppy along with him wherever he went. He would take him along to their weekly reunions with Mike and Tina, walk him across the street when they ran out of strawberries, lay him out on the couch whenever Kurt was in the mood for a movie.

Blaine was obsessed, Kurt realized as he watched his husband ask Wilson what he thought about his latest song. And slightly delirious, that too.

To Blaine, Wilson was the canine embodiment of everything that is cute; a precious creature sent to them from the very heavens. His daily source of fluffiness, as he would say whenever he received judging looks from his husband.

To Kurt, however, Wilson was but an attention whore, and the way his ears flapped against his eyes when he slipped through the kitchen floor in order to reach his food was a disguise fully intended to trick Blaine into guaranteed hours of belly-rubbing. Hours of belly-rubbing that should instead be dedicated to less than innocent things involving Kurt and Blaine, period.

Of course, Kurt thinks to himself as he watches the two of them, rolling his eyes, Blaine would never suspect Wilson's evil plan. He recognizes that look, the one with the wide, shiny eyes that plunge right into Blaine's soul, the one he only gets whenever he sees something holy-like, the one that has been directed at the puppy more than a lot lately. The wide, toothy smile as the dog very nearly purrs. The look that used to be reserved for Kurt, and Kurt only.

He tries to hold back a growl when he realizes he's jealous of a golden retriever receiving more attention from his husband than he is, and lets out a mighty sigh at his own ridiculousness.

"Blaiiine," He calls from where he's laid across their couch, after a moment's hesitation. "Come cuddle me."

Blaine's eyes light up, much like Wilson's seem to do whenever he smells his food every morning.

He walks over, the puppy trailing after him, of course, and throws himself on top of the other man, letting out a soft contented noise from the depths of Kurt's neck, where his face is buried.

Kurt closes his eyes, happy to just breathe in and out, the smell of their shampoo present around him like a fluffy blanket.

But then, he feels the sudden weight of someone—or something— else making his way across his knees, and suddenly fur is choking him as Wilson settles right on top of his face. He lets out an outraged noise that probably can't be heard over the huge-ass dog that's taking over him, and when he opens his mouth to breathe, all that goes into his mouth is either a tail or a paw, he can't tell.

The only noise he can hear is Blaine's laughter, loud and unrestrained. He desperately tries to extricate his hands from where they're trapped under Blaine weight, to no avail.

"HEWP ME, BLEIN ANDWERSON!" He yells, and is almost positive he can hear the dog laughing at him.

After what seems like hours, Blaine finally comes around to lift the monster off his head, putting him on the ground gently.

Kurt sits up, taking in long mouthfuls of air and hoping that isn't dizziness he is experiencing; he is almost sure he's read somewhere that loss of air can result in comas and all sorts of things involving hospitals.

"You ok?" He hears Blaine ask, and when his eyes focus on him he realizes Blaine is laughing.

His mouth falls open in shock, and he blinks his eyes rapidly in indignation. And probably because there is dog hair in his eyes, that too.

"Am I ok? Is that what you choose to ask me, right this moment? Am I ok?" He cries out, brow furrowing viciously.

Blaine tries not to look too amused.

"No, I am not ok. I very nearly just died; I was very nearly just murdered by that thing you seem to love so much. I am not ok, I am in shock and I am disgusted, and you need to wipe that grin off your face." He bats away the hand that's come to rest at his neck and wriggles out of where his waist is still being straddled by Blaine's legs.

"What are you doing? Babe?" Blaine asks at sight of the slightly manic grin on his husband's face as he runs from the room.

"That dog knew what it was doing, Blaine. Do you remember what happened to the guy from Fashion History class? The one who tried to steal my spot at the internship? He succeeded, remember? Well, I made a pact with myself that day, Blaine, as I watched everyone congratulate him and send him off to the house of Calvin Klein." Kurt calls out, drawing in a long breath like he was making a big effort doing something. Blaine snorts onto his hand, lying back on the couch. "You know what I told myself? I told myself I would never ever let anyone mess with me like that again. Ever again. And I intend to keep that promise, Blaine, or else I'll regret it for the rest of my life. That dog knew what it was doing, and you know it." He continued as he walked back into the room holding a large cardboard box.

"And what was Wilson trying to do, then?" Blaine asked.

"Kill me. It was trying to choke me so he could have you all to himself." Kurt said from where he was bent over at the closet, digging into its depths, looking for something. "But you're mine, I was here first. And I'm taller, and I've seen what that dog can do; I shouldn't fall for that cuteness of his over and over again."

Blaine just laughed so hard he was sure he would develop a six pack by end of the night.

"Oh, you can laugh. But Wilson won't be laughing when I'm through with him." Kurt said, eyes glinting evilly. "The dog tried to kill me, Blaine, it sat on my face."

"You'll excuse me if I find that hard to believe. Wilson loves you. He always—you know—waggles his tail when he sees you. And besides, I don't see why a dog would hate you so much."

"I hate some people for no reason too." Kurt reasoned.

"Well what are intending to do to him?" Blaine asked. "You know I won't let you abandon him."

"But Blaine! That dog is a hazard to my safety! Your husband's safety! You would rather keep him than keep me alive? Is this what's going on here?"

Blaine bit his lip. He opened his mouth to ask whether or not Kurt had been drinking; he usually never asked to be cuddled, pretended not to like it, and this whole talk was getting strange, but decided against it. "Kurt, he wasn't trying to kill you, it was just an accident."

Just then, the puppy padded into the room, oblivious to the death-glare-from-hell he was receiving from Kurt. He walked over to Blaine, who reached out and pulled him into his lap, scratching at the back of his ears. "How could this little guy want to kill you, Kurt? Look at him!"

Kurt straightened up at that. He watched Blaine baby-talk the puppy for a few seconds, and when Blaine didn't turn back to acknowledge him, he dropped the cardboard box onto the floor, narrowing his eyes. "Are you serious?" He asked in a deadpanned voice. At Blaine's expectant look, he said, "That dog tried to kill me and you still choose him over me?"

The emotions that crossed Blaine's face could have easily been drawn out by an artist. First, shock, his eyebrows shooting up all the way into his hairline, eyes blowing wide and mouth falling open. Then, affection, lips sliding into a lopsided smile and eyes shining in a way that bordered on creepy if it, weren't so dopy. Lastly, a mixture of sadness and love, an expression that made Kurt doubt Blaine wasn't the real puppy.

"Kurt," Blaine mumbled softly, letting out a small huff of laughter. He put the puppy aside on the pillows and walked over to the other man, resting his hands on his hips and pouting slightly. "I don't choose a dog over you."

"Yes you do," Kurt huffed, trying not to let himself think about how pathetic he was too much. "Ever since we got him all you ever do is rub his stomach and talk about how cute he is and buy him different colored leashes."

They were silent for a moment, Blaine trying to figure out what to say and Kurt averting hazel eyes. "And, I think he's cute too." He said finally, pulling away from Blaine's grip and walking over to where Wilson was sitting on the pillow. "But he just- He takes up all of your attention and he's taking you from me. We can never even watch a movie without him being there at your feet."

"I'm so sorry," Blaine breaks the silence, voice low and loaded with love, as if Kurt's lack of speech confirmed this wasn't some sort of joke. "I just—I have always wanted a puppy. Ever since I was a little boy, I've imagined what my puppy would look like and how I would call him Wilson," He let out a sweet little laugh. "But my mom never let me. You know, when Cooper sneaked in a stray to keep in his room? He let me choose the name, so we named him Wilson, but then mom found it the very next day and we were grounded for months." Kurt rolled his eyes at the story, the one he'd heard many times, but smiled softly. "I'm really, really sorry. I just got carried away, I guess. I was in love with the idea of you and me having a puppy together, like families do. He'd be ours, and we'd keep him for the rest of our lives till' he'd grow old and then our kids wou-" He cut himself off quickly.

Kurt tried not to smile, but failed miserably. "You're such a dork." He mumbled. "And I'm sorry, too. I was stupid, getting jealous over a dog." His cheeks reddened slightly, but Blaine didn't seem to notice as he threw his arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"You should never have to compete with a dog, though. I'm really sorry." He sniffed, kissing the skin just below Kurt's ear. "How about we watch a movie? We can cuddle and I'll make no-butter popcorn and we can sing along to the lyrics or just sleep. Whatever you want. I'll leave Wilson inside our room, so it'll just be the two of us."

"That's ok. He can stay, just as long as he comes nowhere near me. He may not want to kill me but I've had enough of him for today." Kurt says.

Blaine presses a long kiss onto his cheek, takes his hand, and leads him to the couch, the soft sound of paws on wood trailing after them and whispered I love you's like the sound of birds chirping in the afternoon. The three of them settle onto comfortable positions, much like Blaine has dreamed of since as long as he can remember; like a family.


End file.
